


American Dreaming

by bren97122



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood and Gore, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Intense Violence, Romance, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-21
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:33:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25416211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bren97122/pseuds/bren97122
Summary: Kieran Duffy has always been running and surviving, one place to the next. He's used to it, or should be at least. But after a series of events that finds himself in new company, Kieran realizes this could be a place he doesn't need to run from. All it takes is the right cause, and a woman worth fighting for._AU where Kieran survives and fights alongside the crumbling Van der Linde Gang in its last days. A story of survival, love, and finding something worth fighting for.
Relationships: Kieran Duffy/Mary-Beth Gaskill
Comments: 10
Kudos: 36





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello boahs and gurls to my first ever Red Dead Redemption fanfiction!
> 
> I've been playing Red Dead 2 again, my second go through the story. Kieran is an interesting character and I wish his story continued. His burgeoning relationship with Mary-Beth was also very sweet and something the poor guy deserved. 
> 
> As such... this story will fix his fate and allow him to seek his own brand of redemption.
> 
> PS: Although the ages of many characters are left up to speculation, my headcanon is that Mary-Beth is 22 in 1899 and Kieran is 25. That extends to here as well :)

They finally let him carry a gun.

Kieran Duffy sat on a rock, regarding the iron Dutch Van der Linde had presented to him. It was a sign- a sign they probably weren't going to just kill him, a sign they actually began to trust him, and a sign he was one of them.

It was an old Colt Navy revolver. Its frame was pitted with rust, the wooden grip was chipped, and it was a veritably ancient cap and ball model. Kieran suspected it must have been a relic of the War Between the States. Regardless, it was still a sign that Kieran was on his way to becoming a Van der Linde.

It was another day at Horseshoe Overlook, the temporary camp the gang has erected after fleeing the freezing mountains, with Kieran unwillingly in tow. A few terrifying days of being tied to a tree and an incident that almost cost him his manhood, Kieran had a chance to prove himself.

And prove himself he did, so it seemed.

After they integrated him into their camp, Kieran easily fell back into his old habits- taking care of the horses. He did that his whole life, it seemed, and he had no qualms doing it for the rest of his life as well. If there was one thing Kieran was good at, it was horses. Whether it be riding them, taking care of them, figuring out what ailed them, he was good at that. That was the one thing he could say in confidence about himself.

He had spent the morning feeding and brushing the gang's steeds, and now he was taking a break. Absentmindedly playing with his revolver's cylinder, he gazed out at the clearing several yards away where the rest of Dutch's boys (and girls) went about their tasks.

Kieran was starting to figure out who was who. He may not be very good with people, but he was always the observant type and prided himself on knowing more than he would let on.

There was, of course, Dutch Van der Linde himself, the larger-than-life head of this little bunch. Hosea Matthews, Dutch's much more grounded second-in-command.

The main man who did the heavy lifting was Arthur Morgan. The big bastard who got Kieran wrapped up in this mess to begin with. He mostly ran with John Marston, the only man in camp with a wife, young Lenny Summers, and Charles Smith, a man Kieran knew without demonstration was not someone who was to be messed with. Bill Williamson was another enforcer, short on intelligence but not on muscle and violence. Kieran tried to avoid him for multiple reasons. Then there was Javier Escuella, who often could be found where Williamson was. There was also that shifty German (or was he Austrian?) Leopold Strauss, whose criminal activities made Kieran even more uncomfortable than the usual straight-up acts of robbery and other such strongarm crimes.

Pearson was the camp's cook, from whose table only recently Kieran had been allowed to eat three square meals a day. They had a holy man in camp too, Swanson, although Kieran was sure his preaching days were behind him and the title of "reverend" was an artifact of a previous life at this point. And then there was Uncle. Kieran was not sure why he was called Uncle. He wasn't _actually_ anyone's uncle. Kieran wasn't sure why he was kept around, either. He spent most of his days sleeping or drinking. Any attempts to get him to do anything more physically taxing that getting more whiskey was met with complaints about "lumbago."

One thing that surprised Kieran the most about Dutch's gang was that they had women who were respected members and equals in camp. Any woman seen around an O'Driscoll camp was either a whore or an unfortunate daughter or wife being held for ransom and subject to a variety of abuses.

Susan Grimshaw was the camp's matron. A hard woman everyone, even Dutch and Arthur, were reluctant to cross. Kieran observed her sometimes harsh methods, but knew these fools probably would have eaten each other years ago had she not been in charge. Another unsuspecting find was Abigail Roberts and her little boy Jack. A mother, running with this gang of thieves and killers. Kieran wondered what it was like raising a boy in a life like this. Officially, she was supposed to be John Marston's wife and Jack was as such meant to be his boy. But, Marston really did not seem to think that way. That or he had a funny way of showing it. Dutch's lover Molly O'Shea was in camp too. Kieran had never seen her do any work. She struck him as the kind of woman used to letting the servants take care of it.

The one person that frightened Kieran more than Williamson was the widow, Sadie Adler. O'Driscolls killed her husband. She hated O'Driscolls. That extended to him, even though Kieran vehemently denounced the life he had briefly led with them. Kieran could not blame her one bit for her feelings, but he hoped she could restrain herself from slitting his throat in his sleep.

Under Miss Grimshaw's watchful eye were Tilly Jackson, Karen Jones, and Mary-Beth Gaskill. They washed the dishes and did the laundry, ran into town for provisions, and pulled cons and picked pockets like any good outlaw. It was something to behold. Kieran wondered what those women's suffrage folks would think about this arrangement.

Kieran rested his head on one hand and leaned his elbow onto his thigh, using his free hand to grasp the revolver. He thought about the last name he pondered.

Mary-Beth…

She was something else. It was like she did not belong here, among the outlaws. She was kind and gentle and Kieran could just tell she was also extremely intelligent. No one else in the gang showed him kindness besides her (although he had been told he was being shown kindness every day they didn't kill him).

It also helped that she was probably the prettiest thing Kieran ever saw. It was hard to keep his eyes off of her. He hoped no one noticed this. Kieran doubted both the men and women would take kindly to the ex-O'Driscoll's leering.

He wanted to talk to her. He really did. But what would he say to her? Kieran had to admit he never found much interest in women. They were complicated, just like any other person. He preferred horses, after all. Even in his short time with Colm's gang, he had been offered a turn with the many working girls that came in and out of the O'Driscoll camps. It was an offer Kieran always declined and never interested him.

Besides, why would Mary-Beth even give him the time of day? _Him_ of all people? Dirty Kieran who smelled like horses and rarely got the chance for a proper bath. What would they even talk about? She was always reading those books and Kieran could barely write his own name. He would open his mouth and she would immediately laugh at just how much of a moron he is. It wasn't like he was even good looking either. He couldn't even rely on that to get by.

"What you doing with that pistol, boy? You planning something?"

A gruff voice from behind caused Kieran to be pulled from his thoughts.

Kieran shot up from his seat and stuffed the revolver into its holster. Arthur Morgan stood a few feet away. He casually rested his hands on his gun belt in anticipation of his response.

"What? No- no. I was just messing about…"

Arthur waved a placating hand.

"Ah, just messin' with you. How are those horses?"

Relieved that Arthur was inquiring on a subject he could easily answer, Kieran smiled and briskly gestured at the horses milling about the gang's ad-hoc corral.

"Oh, they're real fine, Mister Morgan. Real fine. Horses are- are kinda like people, you know?"

Arthur shrugged in passive agreement.

"Sure."

"Each one's different and you gotta take care to figure out what each one wants. It's… easier to do with horses than people, I'll admit that."

Arthur nodded slowly.

"Whatever you say, O'Driscoll boy. I'll leave you to it."

Kieran scoffed.

"I'm not an O'Driscoll! I'm not!"

Arthur was walking away.

"Whatever you say, Kieran O'Driscoll."

Kieran sighed and walked back to the horses. He kicked a rock in his path and retrieved a brush from his box of horse tools.

He went back to work, thinking about Colm, Dutch, Arthur, Mary-Beth, and what would happen to him in the next few days, weeks, and months.

* * *

Him starting to talk to Mary-Beth wasn't as dramatic as Kieran imagined it may have been. In fact, it was Mary-Beth herself who initiated it. It was simple enough- she just started saying "hi" and asking how he was feeling. But, it meant something to Kieran. She was the only one who talked to him like he was a part of the gang, not some outsider constantly being scrutinized and almost expected to slip-up.

It probably meant nothing to her, but to him, it meant everything.

One day he decided to be extra brave, especially by Kieran standards.

He was taking a break from his work when he saw Mary-Beth sitting on her blanket and reading. After taking a moment to admire her, Kieran took a deep breath and walked over as confidently as possible.

"Miss Mary-Beth."

She looked up from her book.

"Kieran."

He extended a hand toward a box next to her position.

"Do you mind if I sit here?"

"Not at all."

Kieran settled down and pretended to adjust his boots for a moment.

"What are you doing?" he finally began.

"What's it look like I'm doing?" Mary-Beth said, idly flipping a page.

"It looks like you're reading."

She glanced up and gave him an annoyed look. Kieran's heart sank.

"And I am. So why do you ask?"

Kieran considered just getting up and running away right then and there.

"Just… making conversation…" he managed to mutter.

Kieran silently admitted defeat and began to rise when Mary-Beth closed her book.

"I'm sorry."

Kieran stopped short and pivoted toward her.

She smiled softly.

"I was being catty. I… I don't know why."

Something overcame Kieran in that moment. Perhaps it was the relief he felt from her words.

"You're very pretty," he suddenly said, faster than his brain could process his actions.

Before she could call Arthur or John to whoop his ass, Kieran followed up with a response that _had_ been processed by his brain.

"I'm sorry, I'm not being forward or nothing, but ya are."

"You're very sweet," Mary-Beth responded.

Kieran's cheeks began to burn and he awkwardly scratched at his beard.

"Strange and horrible and an O'Driscoll, but... sweet."

The redness in his face was very hard to miss. Kieran needed to retreat.

"I'm not an O'Driscoll, miss," he said while quickly standing up before walking away.

"Okay, whatever you say," Mary-Beth replied in an understanding tone as Kieran speed-walked away.

* * *

A few days later, Kieran was feeling especially brave once more.

"Hi," he greeted Mary-Beth's sitting form.

She jumped a bit, clearly engrossed in her reading. She giggled, however.

"Hi, Kieran!"

He took a seat next to her and nodded at her book.

"Still reading?"

She gazed at him, folded over the corner of her page, and set down her book.

Kieran's eyes widened a bit at the idea of her undivided attention.

"I've taken a break… but yes, I plan to keep reading."

Now this was the hard part. Trying to talk to her about books. Kieran felt they might as well be debating high philosophical topics.

"Is it- uh, fun?" he tried.

"It's amazing," Mary-Beth breathlessly began, "it's the reason worth living it- it's the only thing that makes me happy."

He grinned.

"So the only thing that makes you happy is being in your head somewhere else?"

She laughed and grinned at him. Kieran chanced laughing as well.

"I suppose I never thought of it quite like that."

They were both quiet for a moment. Kieran relished the fact he got her to laugh at his comment.

"You never read?" she asked.

Kieran stared at her.

 _Goddamnit_ , he thought.

Now Mary-Beth will know exactly the sort of illiterate ne'er-do-well he really was.

"No," he began casually in an attempt to brush it off, "never fancied it."

"But you can," Mary-Beth said as Kieran tried to avoid her eyes.

"Well, I could. If I chose to. I've just… not chosen to," Kieran stumbled.

Kieran laughed awkwardly. Mary-Beth smiled up at him.

"Maybe one of us will teach you."

Kieran stared once more.

The look in her eyes gave him a few guesses as to who specifically would be his tutor.

His body was moving while his mind attempted to figure out a reply. He stood up and simply nodded, too flustered to give a proper reply. He walked away, feeling Mary-Beth's smile on his back.

He so desperately wanted to say _I think I'd like that_.

* * *

For the first time, Kieran felt like he actually belonged with the gang.

They were celebrating Jack Marston's safe return, whose absence had tormented Kieran ever since he saw the Braithwaite's men lurking around camp and decided not to say anything, because he felt he knew better than to involve himself in the affairs of Dutch or Hosea. His inaction led to little Jack being snatched and he felt that it was his fault and his alone.

Jack being returned no worse for wear bought a tidal wave of relief to Kieran. But even as the gang drank, sang, and hollered around the campfire, he felt as if he didn't belong there. That he should let them have their moment and be thankful the boy was unharmed.

It came as a surprise when Karen and Arthur Morgan himself came over to where he was moping and convinced him to join them. He was reluctant at first, but he realized he made the right choice after a few drinks.

The alcohol was getting to him. His senses were being dulled by inebriation. It had been some time since he truly let loose like this.

Kieran found himself wandering away from the campfire, a fresh beer in hand. A part of him wanted to find Mary-Beth, see if she was amenable to his company tonight. The other, more rational part of him trying to stay in control told him to avoid doing so lest he go and make a fool of himself in front of that lovely woman.

He headed off into the swamps at the edge of Shady Belle, mumbling to himself in between sips of his drink.

The chorus of frogs, bugs, and other creatures of the night drowned out the other sounds around him. He was more focused on his drink and on thoughts of Mary-Beth that he managed to not hear four sets of feet approaching him from behind.

"Well, well, well. Look who it is," a man's voice sneered.

Kieran jumped in place and turned around.

Before him were four men in black dusters accented by green kerchiefs. One of them had a hand on his revolver and smiled a distinctively unfriendly smile.

"Hello, Kieran," he said.

"Oh no," Kieran squeaked.

"Oh yes," one of the O'Driscolls maliciously replied before launching a fist into Kieran's face.

* * *

The first round of torment was for their fun.

The O'Driscolls never took kindly to anyone who wasn't one of them. Special hatred was reserved for traitors, which Kieran was quickly branded as.

He was lashed with a horse whip first, an act Kieran was sure the O'Driscolls reveled in the irony of.

Kieran was then beaten and dragged into the basement of a burnt down house. It was hard to get a bearing on where he was, as Kieran was unconscious for the entire ride over to the O'Driscoll camp, and the pulsing pain from his injuries and fading buzz of alcohol did not help. But, the surrounding greenery and the cool temperatures made Kieran guess he was in the Heartlands.

Not that it mattered. Kieran was absolutely sure he would die here.

They bound him to an old chair. He was punched, smacked, pricked with knives, cut with a straight razor, and now an O'Driscoll put out his cigarette on his cheek. Kieran knew these four men personally. They were Pike, Jonas, Paul, and Marty. They were members of the contingent of O'Driscolls Kieran frequently got shackled with. They were all cruel, unscrupulous men who delighted in bullying him back when he ran with them. He was sure their capability for atrocity would only increase tenfold now that they knew he was a traitor, someone who Colm O'Driscoll himself had ordered the death of.

But, that death would only come after he provided information that they wanted.

Kieran ascertained that the O'Driscolls knew where Dutch and the others were holed up. They were planning an attack, a big one, one they hoped would crush the Van der Lindes in a single, swift blow.

"Let's try this again," Pike said, burying his cigarette into Kieran's sternum, where his shirt had been pulled to expose. Kieran bit his tongue and did his best to contain his scream, not wanting to give the men the satisfaction of hearing him cry out.

"How many men does Dutch have posted? Where are they?" Paul demanded.

"I ain't tellin' you shit!" Kieran blurted.

Marty laughed.

"Wrong answer, boyo," he said in his deep Irish accent.

Marty slammed the butt of his revolver into Kieran's cheek. Kieran gasped as his head swung to the right from the impact. He exhaled heavily as he felt blood trickling out a fresh laceration.

"You know, I don't know how ol' Dutch got to you this well, boy. Anyone in your position would be squealing already," Pike said.

It wasn't entirely Dutch's doing. Sure, spending time with the gang showed Kieran they were mostly all good people, much more decent than any one of the O'Driscolls. He did not want them to die, especially not because of his weakness.

But really, it was Mary-Beth. He did not want these savages to visit upon whatever wrath and cruelty they could muster upon her. The Van der Linde gang had excellent fighters. But he was not sure they could survive in the face of Colm's overwhelming numbers. He would not be able to protect Mary-Beth then, but he knew right now that he would die to protect her. If it meant being torn apart in this musty cellar, he would endure it for the only person who showed him true, selfless kindness for the first time in years. That much he could do.

"They're good folk. Not like you or Colm. You're just a bunch of goddamn lunatics!" Kieran shouted.

Paul delivered a jab to his stomach. Kieran bent over, coughing.

"Don't like those words you use to describe us, shithead."

Pike undid his gun belt and set it down on a nearby table. He walked over to Kieran and grabbed a fistful of his long hair to lift Kieran up to face him.

"Listen to me, boy," Pike muttered, his stale breath striking Kieran's nostrils, "you're gonna die. If you die slow or die fast is up to you. This is the last choice you're gonna make and I suggest you make one in your favor."

Kieran was breathing heavily. Pike dropped him and went over Kieran's own gun belt, which had been stripped off of him shortly after his capture. Pike drew the Colt Navy from its holster.

"Look at this piece of shit. This what Dutch arming his people with? A goddamn museum piece my daddy carried at Vicksburg?"

Jonas withdrew his Bowie knife from its sheath. He placed the tip of it over Kieran's heart.

"I say I start cutting fingers off this little fuck."

"Nah, you go too crazy with that shit," Paul said, "it'll be like the last guy we had to get answers from. He bled out just when he was getting to the good stuff."

Jonas huffed and sheathed his knife.

"Hey!" a new voice interrupted them.

Kieran looked up and saw a fifth O'Driscoll, Laurence, poking his head through the cellar door.

"What?" Pike inquired.

"We're wasting too much time on this worm. Colm is already moving the rest of the boys into position in the swamps. We're moving on Van der Linde. We have enough men for it."

"Fine by me," Pike shrugged, "what we doing with Duffy?"

"Colm said to make him a rider," Laurence said before departing.

The four O'Driscolls exchanged laughs and knowing grins.

"What. W- what the _fuck_ is that? What are you doing?" Kieran desperately began as he struggled against his bindings.

"You weren't around for when Georgie Dolan tried to sell out Colm to the law, were you?" Jonas inquired.

"Wha- who?"

The men laughed at his reaction.

"Then you'll find out soon enough," Marty said.

Jonas picked up a machete that was sitting on a table and had been mercifully unused- until now, it seemed.

Kieran stared at the wide blade, focusing in on the brown stains that covered the blade. He did not know if they were rust or old bloodstains.

"What are you doing?!" Kieran screamed.

"Oh, just stop moving, boy, you're just makin' it worse!" Marty taunted.

Jonas gripped Kieran's left shoulder to hold him in place. He raised the machete aloft. Kieran stared at it, his body involuntarily trying to move out of its path.

"Wait! Wait!" Pike said.

Jonas stared at him.

"What?"

"Let's do the eyes first."

Paul hooted in approval.

"That's an idea!"

Jonas grinned evilly.

"I believe so."

"What? _What_?!" Kieran cried.

Jonas stepped aside and let Pike take his place. Pike withdrew a small knife from his belt and glared at Kieran.

"Remember when I said you had a choice? You made the wrong one," he said coldly.

Pike looked to his right and picked up Kieran's revolver.

"But first… you ain't gonna need those kneecaps where you're going."

Kieran closed his eyes and felt like he was going to cry.

He tried to think about Mary-Beth, how he wanted to say so much to her, how he would give everything in the world to just be sitting on the grass with her listening to her read. To see her smile, to know it was _him_ she was smiling about.

He thought about how she would never see him again and that she may very well never know what happened to him.

And finally, Kieran wondered if she was thinking of him.

There was a sound of fizzling followed by a sharp _bang_. The blinding pain Kieran expected did not materialize. He opened his eyes.

His ancient revolver was in several pieces. Smoke emanated from the remains of the cylinder. Pike was staring at the mangled, bloody remains of his right hand.

There was silence for a long moment. Then, Pike began to scream and grip his right wrist.

The other men in the room immediately turned their attention to their wounded comrade. There was a cacophony of shouting, cursing, and pained screaming. Marty was calling to get a bandage.

Kieran stood up and backed into the rear stone wall with as much force as he could manage. The old chair they had him bound to shattered upon contact with the wall. Kieran shook off his bindings and turned to where Pike had left his weapons. Kieran stumbled over to the table.

Paul was the first to notice Kieran was loose.

"Hey! Hey!" he shouted just as Kieran reached the table.

Kieran's hands wrapped around the first thing they could reach. It felt like wood and was solid. He hoped it was the grip of Pike's revolver.

Paul grabbed Kieran's shoulder and turned him around just as Kieran freed a large knife from its leather sheath. Paul was not ready for Kieran to bring it around and shove it into his neck.

With a hacking cough, Paul reached out and grabbed the hand Kieran used to plunge the blade into his neck. Kieran grimaced and put a hand on the top of the knife's handle and used that to push it further.

Paul gurgled as blood leaked out of the wound and stained Kieran's sleeves as it flowed down his arm. Paul finally tripped and fell onto his back, kicking impotently.

The other men finally noticed Kieran was free and killed one of their comrades.

"He's loose!" Marty shouted as he attempted to free his revolver.

Kieran roared and charged him, shoving down a stupified Jonas and body slamming Marty just as his revolver cleared leather. The Irishman groaned and smacked into the opposite wall. Kieran heard a hair-raising _crunch_ as Marty's head impacted the wall and slid down.

Jonas cried something incomprehensible as he put Kieran into a rear chokehold. Both men tumbled to the ground. Jonas pulled back, attempting to choke out Kieran. The edge of his vision soon began to swim in and out of focus.

Kieran pawed around until his hand found purchase on the frame of Marty's fallen revolver. He raised it and slammed the revolver down in the general direction of Jonas's head. Kieran felt an impact and heard a sharp, violent exhale from Jonas. The arm around Kieran's neck slackened and he fell forward, taking a few deep breaths. Jonas grabbed the front of Kieran's shirt and groaned. Kieran pushed off his hand and turned over the revolver before repeatedly slamming the frame into Jonas's face. After a dozen strikes, Kieran reeled back and went in for one final attack with all his strength, which resulted in the revolver flying out of his hand in the aftermath.

Jonas's face was reduced to a broken, bloodied mess. His eyes were swollen shut by bruises and his nose was bent at an awkward angle. His labored breathing was interrupted by wet coughing.

"Fuck," Kieran said under his breath as he shakily stood up.

A hand clamped around his ankle and pulled him down. It was Pike, using his one good hand in an attempt to take down Kieran.

Kieran responded by reaching out and grabbing his grievously injured hand. Pike screamed in unspeakable pain as Kieran wrenched and twisted at something that felt loose. Eventually, whatever he was pulling came off. He spared a glance down- it was the remains of Pike's ring finger. Kieran shook his head and tossed it away.

Pike turned onto his back and groaned piteously. Kieran's heart was pounding in his head, his breathing quick and ragged. The adrenaline in his veins was starting to fade and the world started to sharpen a bit.

The sight of the man crying out in pain made Kieran pause for a moment. But, he remembered just who he and his dead or mortally wounded comrades were- brutal, merciless sadists who gleefully tormented him and were prepared to slowly, torturously kill him.

Kieran licked his lips and spat out a glob of saliva and blood. He looked over to the machete that Jonas had, only minutes ago, prepared to use to dismember him. He reached over and picked it up. Pike looked up and met Kieran's eyes as the young man advanced, machete held in an iron grip at his side.

Pike futility backed up as Kieran advanced and raised the machete.

"Wait! _Wait_!" Pike croaked as he waved his good hand.

Kieran shouted and slammed the machete down onto his face. Pike's head _thumped_ onto the ground. Kieran turned the machete and slammed it into Pike's neck, where it stuck in place.

He looked around at the bodies.

 _I did that_ , he thought.

Now was not the time to contemplate his situation. Kieran walked over and retrieved Pike's gun belt, where the Single Action Army revolver he initially went for was still sitting in its holster.

As soon as he grabbed it, he heard a voice.

"Hey, what the hell are you doing with the boy? We got to get a move on."

"Shit," Kieran mumbled as he drew the revolver and pulled back the hammer. There was no time to check the load. He had to hope for the best.

Laurence sauntered back into the cellar. He must have assumed the screams and bangs were all part of Kieran's demise.

His eyes went wide when he saw Kieran behind the six-shooter.

Laurence opened his mouth. No words came before Kieran pulled the trigger and sent a round through his nose, which blew out the back of his skull and painted the contents on the stairs.

Kieran was already running as Laurence's body fell to the floor like a sack of bricks. He emerged out onto a flat expanse of grass atop a hill. He could see the road beyond. A few yards away to his right were some horses. About an equal distance to his left were three other O'Driscolls sitting around a campfire.

They were already looking in his general direction, presumably because of the gunshot. Kieran had already started running to the nearest horse when the O'Driscolls were roused from their stupor and began firing at him.

He hopped onto a golden-coated Turkoman in record time. Bullets whizzed past his head as he spurred the horse forward. Kieran rode hard, heading in a general southern direction. He was blessed to be a more capable horseman than his pursuers and he soon lost them.

Kieran did not let up. That would mean death. He urged on his temporary steed and eventually found road signs pointing him toward Saint Denis. From there, he would find his way back onto the familiar roads and hopefully stumble back toward Shady Belle.

He hoped the O'Driscolls did not yet start their assault. He hoped there was still time to warn them of the coming storm.

* * *

Kieran was close enough now to make out the faint figures milling about camp. One by one, they all stopped once they heard the hoofbeats approaching via the dirt road.

A few people jogged out to the entrance road to meet the arrival, guns drawn as they were not expecting a visitor.

Kieran pulled his horse to a stop. He jumped from the saddle and jogged to meet the gang.

A familiar voice cried out in surprise.

"Kieran?!"

Mary-Beth ran up behind Arthur and Dutch, concern clearly etched on her face. She stopped short and covered her agape mouth with her hands when she saw his condition.

Kieran wanted to push past everyone and throw his arms around her. He wanted to cry, tell her how he thought he would never see her ever again and how the thought of that scared him more than death. He wanted to tell her everything he hesitated to say at that moment. But now was not the time. Not the time at all.

"Where the hell did you go? W- what happened to you?" Arthur asked.

Kieran shook his head.

"I was taken."

"By who?"

Kieran did not reply and looked over his shoulder.

"We're in trouble. They- they're coming!"

Dutch shook his head in confusion.

"What do you mean? Who's coming, son?" he asked.

Kieran gritted his teeth. He could feel it was too late.

Dutch looked over Kieran's shoulder.

"Over there! In the treeline!"

"Shit," Arthur snapped, "goddamn O'Driscolls!"

A legion of armed, black-coated men emerged from the trees. The Van der Linde gang collectively shouted and ran back to the more defensible manor.

"Women and children inside! Boys, get ready!" Dutch ordered.

Kieran followed Arthur and Dutch to the top balcony and got in cover just as the shooting started.


	2. Chapter 2

The wood of the balcony splintered as bullets peppered it. Kieran jumped as a bullet ricocheted off the column he was hiding behind.

To his left, Arthur was already returning fire with his repeater. Kieran drew his stolen revolver and stared at it. He had five rounds left, probably. Wouldn't do too much good.

"Arthur!" Kieran called when the other man popped back into cover.

Arthur looked up at Kieran as he shoved fresh rounds into his repeater.

"What is it?"

"Get me a gun! A- a rifle!"

"Boy, you even know how to _use_ one of those things?!"

"Goddammit, Arthur!" Kieran hissed, "now is not the time! Come on, please!"

Arthur finally nodded once.

"Karen?" he asked the woman next to him, who was also engaged with firing at the O'Driscolls.

"Got it," she said, having overheard their exchange.

She ducked back inside and emerged a few moments later with a Winchester Model 1873 repeater and a box of spare cartridges.

"It's loaded!" she informed Kieran before passing him the rifle.

Kieran accepted the arms and ammo and took a deep breath. With a sharp exhale, he turned around and sighted up an O'Driscoll. Kieran pulled the trigger and dropped the gang member with a single shot through the upper torso. The man stumbled forward for a few steps before landing face-down. Working the lever, he snapped his sights over to the head of an O'Driscoll who emerged from cover to fire upon the house. Kieran sent a shot through his head. The O'Driscoll fell back, disappearing behind the wall he was taking cover behind.

"Kieran, Dutch, Karen! Hold up here, I'm going down!" Arthur announced before charging through the balcony doors.

More O'Driscolls emerged from the trees, firing wildly. Kieran dropped two more attackers before ducking behind his pillar just as the O'Driscolls' bullets began to home in on him.

He paused to retrieve some cartridges he had stuffed into his pockets.

"There's too many of them!" Karen growled as she topped off her rifle.

"What the hell is Arthur doing?" Kieran wondered aloud.

The front doors of the manor were shoved open. Arthur emerged, both of his revolvers held in each hand. He fired quickly, dispatching several O'Driscolls with lightning-fast shots.

"How's he do that?" Kieran said.

"He's been at this for a long time, son," Dutch responded.

"Fall back, back to the house, come on!" they heard Charles shout from down below.

"Come on, downstairs," Dutch urged Kieran and Karen.

They followed Dutch down to the foyer, where Arthur, John, and Charles were shutting the door behind them.

"Everyone stay calm. We need something in front of that door," Dutch ordered.

"Kieran, help me here," Arthur said.

The two men pushed over an old, heavy cabinet to barricade the front door. The brief moment of peace allowed the men to reconvene and figure out something of a strategy.

"Good," Dutch said, preparing to take charge, "now everyone, I got this. Get these windows covered quickly. John, you take the windows over there, Charles, you take the side door there, Arthur and Kieran, you take the windows in the back, go!"

"What about me?" Karen inquired.

"Go with Miss Grimshaw and make sure the rest of the girls get in cover!" Dutch ordered as he took up his position.

Kieran followed Arthur's lead and moved to get in cover at the wall.

Mary-Beth was hiding in the kitchen with Tilly and Miss Grimshaw. She stood up slightly when Kieran entered.

"Kieran!"

"Mary-Beth…" he began, relieved, "you okay?"

"I'm fine. Are you hurt?"

Kieran laughed. He was indeed hurt. Very much, all over. But the seemingly never-ending fight for survival he was experiencing today was allowing him to push through.

"I'll be okay, miss."

"Be careful," she said, her face knotting in concern.

"I will."

"You joining me here, Kieran?" Arthur called.

He exchanged one last look with Mary-Beth and jogged over to take cover behind the wall opposite Arthur.

A quick glance out the window revealed a large group of O'Driscolls advancing on the manor. The two men exchanged a single nod before going on the offensive.

Kieran smashed the window next to him with the Winchester's buttstock. He poked the barrel out the window and rapidly dropped two O'Driscolls. Arthur's revolver fire took down three attackers and caused the advancing group to scatter for cover.

A shotgun blast blew parts of the window frame and covered Kieran in dust and wood chunks. In cover, he paused to reload his rifle.

"Hey!" Arthur shouted, "is everyone accounted for?"

"I don't know! I think!" John said from his position

Kieran tried to think about who he had and had not seen in the chaos. It was futile, as there was only one person that he had been thinking about seeing.

A frenzied shout from outside caught his attention.

"That's Miss Adler," Arthur commented.

"Where is she?" Kieran said.

"She's still out there!"

Before Kieran knew what was happening, Arthur was already vaulting through the broken window and into the back yard.

"Cover me!" he said to anyone who would listen.

"Okay, yeah!" Kieran confirmed.

Arthur sprinted toward Sadie's position, taking out a surviving O'Driscoll with practiced killer precision. Kieran made good on his promise and shot down an O'Driscoll who had emerged from the old boathouse and started gunning for Arthur.

Arthur soon retrieved Miss Adler, who Kieran assumed was busy wreaking bloody havoc on the ranks of the O'Driscolls. Kieran was at least glad she had found an _actual_ O'Driscoll to take it out on.

The pair ran back to the manor, dispatching anyone who got in their way. Kieran did not have to provide much in the way of covering fire. Arthur and Sadie proved brutally efficient in mopping up any resistance. Which was good, as he was about to have his own problems.

The back door was kicked open. Kieran wheeled around and saw an O'Driscoll barging in, weapon ready. Somehow, Kieran was faster. Firing from the hip, he shot the attacker in the gut, which sent him stumbling back with a cry. One of his friends came next, firing a pistol shot that missed Kieran's head by inches. Kieran ducked low and sent three rapid shots in his direction that failed to connect. Kieran sprinted into the hall, the O'Driscoll hot on his heels.

When his attacker emerged in pursuit, Charles unexpectedly burst out of an adjacent hall and slammed the man into the wall. With a roar Charles grappled with the O'Driscoll. Kieran raised his rifle but could not get a good enough shot with the men's rapid movements. But, he did not need to. Charles freed his tomahawk from his belt and slammed it into the O'Driscolls sternum. The man slumped as Charles freed the weapon and followed up with the _coup de grâce_ delivered by burying the blade into his skull.

"Thank you," Kieran said.

Charles nodded once.

Kieran cursed and raised his rifle in Charles's direction. Charles locked up for the briefest of moments, but the man did not need any explanation as he hit the deck. Another O'Driscoll had entered through the back door. Kieran put him down with a headshot.

Kieran offered his hand to Charles, who took it and was hoisted up to his feet.

"Nice work," he commented quietly before departing to make sure the rest of the area was secure.

Kieran allowed a low chuckle to escape him. That was probably the one and only time Charles would give him a compliment.

"They're falling back!" John reported from his position.

Kieran jogged over to join the rest of the gang at the front of the house.

"Let's get out there and make sure they stay gone," Dutch said, who pushed shut both of his revolvers.

The doors opened to the sight of carnage. Arthur and Sadie had wiped out the remaining O'Driscolls and were busy finishing off those who remained. To the right, Arthur fanned the hammer of his revolver, emptying the cylinder into three enemy gang members, dropping them all before their weapons could be raised. Miss Adler fired twice into the gut of an O'Driscoll. The man fell, crying out as he covered his wound. Sadie stood over him, apparently relishing his agony for a few seconds before firing a round into his forehead.

The last O'Driscoll standing turned tail and ran down the dirt path that led to the manor. Arthur fired several rounds at him.

"Dammit," he growled as he began to eject the spent rounds.

Kieran stepped forward and raised the rifle to his shoulder. He sighted up the fleeing O'Driscoll and exhaled slowly while depressing the trigger.

The rifle bucked against his shoulder. His target flailed and fell forward onto his face.

"Cowards!" Dutch loudly admonished the few surviving O'Driscolls.

"We okay?" Hosea asked, emerging from the house with the other members of the gang in tow.

"I think so… except for Kieran here," Dutch said.

Kieran shrugged. His body was sore and it hurt to do so.

"Still got my head, sir."

"Good, good. I'm glad you're alright, son," Dutch replied, clapping Kieran on the shoulder before moving on.

"We need to get this place cleaned up," added Hosea, surveying the carnage, "Mister Pearson! Miss Grimshaw!"

"Already taking care of it," Susan reported before turning to remaining gang members.

"Come on now, work!" she urged them.

Kieran stood by as Dutch shifted and looked at the dirt.

"Colm O'Driscoll…" Dutch began.

"That man can really hate," Arthur snapped.

"So can I, Arthur. So can I."

Kieran began to walk away as Arthur and Dutch conferred. He sighed, his heartbeat finally beginning to slow. What a day it had been.

He almost ran into Mary-Beth. Her arms were at her sides and she nervously fidgeted with her hands.

"Mary-Beth," Kieran started, "are… are you okay?"

Mary-Beth's bright eyes were wide and searched his. She just shook her head and took a quick step toward him before throwing her arms around him.

Kieran was frozen, unused to anyone, let alone someone as wonderful and kind as Mary-Beth, showing him affection like this. It took a few moments, but he raised his hands and put one on her back and another into her thick, soft hair.

"Dammit, boy," she mumbled into his shoulder, "don't you ever do that again. Going and vanishing on me."

Kieran smiled and laughed lightly, despite everything. Somehow, some way, he had managed to avoid what should have been a death sentence. He was back with the Van der Linde gang, back with Mary-Beth…

"I won't, ma'am," he replied softly.

He could feel the eyes of the others on them. Kieran slowly let her go and she did the same.

Arthur whistled. Kieran turned to see him strolling over with his hands on his belt.

"Now, where did you learn to shoot like that?" he asked.

Kieran shrugged.

"My, well, _short_ time in the Army. I- well, I was the best rifle shot in my company. I would always get the top score during drills."

Arthur scoffed.

"We're just learning this _now_?"

"Well, it's not like I had much of a chance to demonstrate!" Kieran countered.

Arthur smirked and nodded.

"Fair enough."

Kieran grunted and put a hand over his side, which started to throb with pain. The adrenaline was gone. He was about to feel the extent of Colm's anger.

"Mister Duffy, take some time to recover," Dutch instructed, "you can put him up in my room- me and Arthur have some business to attend to in Saint Denis for a few days. Will anyone stay with him for the time being?"

"I will," Mary-Beth volunteered without a second of hesitation.

"Thank you, Miss Gaskill. Arthur- meet me at the trolley station. We got work," Dutch ordered as he walked off to his horse.

* * *

"Hold still, silly."

Mary-Beth tried her best to gently apply bandages around his body that would cover the multiple wounds the O'Driscolls had inflicted to his back. Kieran could not help but occasionally groan in pain as she worked. He knew she was trying her best.

"I'm tryin', I promise," he replied.

She smiled at him and moved on to work on the cuts on his face.

Her smile turned to a concerned frown when she began to clean the laceration on his cheek.

"What did they do to you?" she whispered.

Kieran grimaced.

"They wanted me to give y'all up. Give them information on who was there, how many of you there were."

"And you didn't."

"No! No, of course not."

She hummed and cupped his cheek, getting closer than was probably necessary to do her work.

"I knew I had a good feeling about you."

"Thank you, miss. You're one of the few."

"Oh, stop," she said, lightly slapping his shoulder, "when you're a part of this gang, you're family. Now, the others, they may have a… funny way of showing that, but it's true."

"Yeah… yeah, real funny."

They both laughed. A moment later, Mary-Beth leaned back, but not before brushing her fingers over his cheek.

"There. I think that should keep you together for the time being."

"How'd you know how to do that, Miss Mary-Beth?" Kieran inquired.

She chuckled.

"Well, when you spend all your time running with outlaws, you need to know how to take care of any sort of on-the-job injuries. Comes with the territory."

"I just thought it was because of all them books."

She giggled.

"That too. You pick up things here and there."

Mary-Beth reached into the bag she had bought her medical supplies in.

"I bought some medicine, too."

"Medicine?" Kieran said quizzically.

She displayed a bottle of bourbon and two tin cups. Kieran laughed.

"That'll work."

She poured out the bourbon and served him a cup. Kieran quickly threw it back.

"Oof. That's strong."

"Got it from Uncle's personal stash."

He chuckled.

"I'm surprised the old man let you have it, especially if it was going to me."

Mary-Beth flashed a devious grin.

"Oh, he doesn't… exactly know I'm borrowing it."

"Mary- _Beth_!"

"Ah, he won't even notice it's gone."

They drank another round. After he set down his cup, Kieran found himself staring at Mary-Beth, who was regarding him with those deep blue eyes that Kieran would often get lost in when she gave her reading lessons. She noticed this and at first seemed to believe she was boring him. Kieran made excuses, of course. He _was_ interested in reading. He really was. It was just made much harder by the company he did it with.

"Are you okay, Kieran?" she finally asked.

He realized that he looked like he was trying to say something. That much was indeed true. He didn't know if this was the time for-

"I'm happy I'm back, Mary-Beth."

She smiled.

"Well, I'm happy you're back too."

"It's not just that. I- well, I…"

His eyes flicked downward to find her hand resting on top of his. Kieran looked back up at her.

"I was afraid," he said.

She nodded, understanding.

"I know. Anyone would have been."

"I was afraid of dying, sure. But… I was afraid I'd never see you ever again. I think… I think that scared me more than anything."

She was quiet. The look on Mary-Beth's face was unreadable, but Kieran felt the hand on top of his own tighten.

"Really?" she asked.

"Yeah. I- I gotta finish my reading lessons, after all," he said with a short laugh, trying to lighten the mood.

She giggled in reply.

"Oh, we'll keep doing those. You're a great student."

"I do have a great teacher."

"Oh, Mister Duffy, aren't _you_ the flatterer?"

Kieran put up his hands defensively.

"Just saying the truth, Miss Mary-Beth."

After another pause, Mary-Beth softly spoke.

"Can I tell you something, too?"

"Of course," he nodded.

"I was scared too. I noticed after Jack came home a few days ago, you weren't around. I first noticed when you didn't show up for your reading lesson, believe it or not. And then I didn't see you at lunch, or out with the horses. I asked Miss Grimshaw if you were out in town getting something… she didn't send you anywhere. Arthur hadn't seen you, or Charles- and he always knows who's in or out."

"I guess no one really noticed I was gone."

She frowned.

"Boy, _I_ noticed you were gone. It all happened so fast… but I'm telling you, if I knew what really happened, I wouldn't rest until I got Arthur, John, Charles, Lenny, Bill, Javier, even _Micah_ out there looking for you. Hell… I would've grabbed a gun and done it myself if I had to."

"I'd do the same for you. Not that I'm any good in a fight."

She playfully pushed Kieran.

"Are you forgetting you even got Arthur to notice your shooting today?"

"Well…."

"Too humble for your own good, Mister Duffy."

He shrugged.

"Ain't got much to talk about."

"Hmph."

They were interrupted by a knock on the doorframe. Susan entered.

"Mister Duffy, I hope you're feeling better."

"Yes ma'am. I had a good doctor."

The older woman smirked.

"Well, all that reading is good for something it seems. I need to borrow Miss Gaskill for a bit. We gotta get this place back back in shape. But, you focus on resting. It's the one time I'll allow it."

Mary-Beth shared a last glance with Kieran before standing up.

"I'll come back in a few minutes, okay?"

"If it's all the same to you, miss, I think I'd like to get some shut-eye."

She smiled.

"Of course."

With that, she departed with Susan.

* * *

Heavy footfalls interrupted Kieran's rest. He was a light sleeper. Being on the run and constantly facing the threat of death would do that.

Kieran opened his eyes and sat up in bed. Before him was Micah Bell, hands resting idly near his twin revolvers.

"Well, well. Sorry I had to wake you."

Kieran pursed his lips.

"Not a problem."

The other man was silent.

"Can I… help you?" Kieran added.

"I was just, ah, checking in. Making sure you're okay."

"Thank you."

Micah sucked in air and entered the room, pacing around for a bit.

"Bet it was nice to see some of your old O'Driscoll buddies, huh?"

"I ain't buddies with any of them fellers."

"Oh, 'course. You just… ran with them for a bit, isn't that right?"

"That's right."

Micah chuckled- a low, deep, distinctly unhumorous sound.

"I was just thinking earlier after we fed all them dead O'Driscolls to the gators. It seems our… _O'Driscoll related issues_ have seen a bit of an increase ever since we took you on. Now, why is that, do ya think?"

Kieran narrowed his eyes. He knew Micah Bell was an unpleasant, even dangerous, person. They rarely interacted, but Kieran did not need to have a conversation to understand that.

"I ain't no O'Driscoll. I kept telling Mister Morgan that, and I told Dutch. I ain't. I killed five of them just getting back here and I killed even more making sure they didn't get us."

"Of course. Of course. I guess it's all just a little bit… coincidental, right?"

Kieran did not get to reply. Mary-Beth had entered the room. She was carrying two steaming bowls.

"Mister Bell," she tersely greeted.

Micah gave his humorless laugh again.

"Miss Gaskill. Bringing supper for our invalid?"

"For himself and I."

"Ain't that just so sweet. Look at that, Kieran. Got yourself a girl who goes the extra mile. Is this in those books you like to read?"

Mary-Beth ignored his comment and slipped past him. Micah chuckled once more.

"Please leave him be. He's been through a lot."

"Alright, then. You have fun playing nurse. Watch out for any O'Driscolls, Kieran," Micah sneered in a falsely cheerful tone.

Mary-Beth glared at the space he once occupied.

"That man…" she mumbled as she pulled up a small table for the both of them.

"Indeed."

"Anyway," Mary-Beth quickly changed the subject, "Mister Pearson got the stew on. Hope you missed it."

Kieran smiled.

"Can't ever complain about Mister Pearson's stew. I'm thankful for anything I get."

"You ain't been with us that long. You haven't seen some of Mister Pearson's, uh, other attempts at supper."

They both laughed. Kieran could remember the first time Pearson served him a bowl of stew. It might as well have been the food of the gods after being tied to that damn tree for so long.

Mary-Beth lifted up a chunk of white meat with her spoon.

"I wonder what woodland creature Mister Pearson chucked in here this time," she said, displaying it to him, "chipmunk? Wouldn't be the first time."

They both laughed and ate in calm relative silence for the next few minutes.

He looked at her while eating. It finally seemed that the reality of the day was starting to set in. He had been so close to dying, escaping through a strength he did not realize he had, and making it all the way back to the gang and avoiding a close encounter with death for the second time in 24 hours. Now, he was in an actual bed, being attended to by Mary-Beth, and had even been _praised_ for his actions.

Kieran was waiting to wake up in the cellar moments before the machete struck his neck. But, the longer this reality persisted, the more Kieran allowed himself to be comfortable with the fact he had made it.

"Mary-Beth?" he asked.

She looked up at him.

"What do you think is going to happen now?"

She set down her bowl and laced her fingers together.

"Oh, that's a hard one. I ain't Dutch, you know."

"Yeah, I know. But, you've been running with them long enough."

Mary-Beth sighed softly.

"Well, usually, we'd think about packing up and moving on. We've done that plenty of times now. But, lately, he's been talking about more than just moving on east or west or south or wherever. Dutch wants to move on. Out of the country entirely."

Kieran scoffed.

"Where we gonna go?"

"I dunno. Dutch likes to mention Australia. Or Tahiti."

"Where the hell is Tahiti?"

She giggled.

"It's an island in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. Run by the French."

"Oh," Kieran responded, "well I ain't ever been to France. Or Tahiti. Sounds good to me."

"Dutch says we can settle down and farm mangoes."

"As long as there's horses."

"Oh, that reminds me," Mary-Beth started, "I fed Branwen today. She's a good horse."

"Sure is. Been with me since I was in the Army."

"Later I'll be sure to let her know you're home safe."

"I'd appreciate that."

After another beat, Mary-Beth bit her lip and looked at him.

"I'll be honest, Kieran. Things have been… unusual. You got picked up at a strange time indeed."

"Did I?"

"Yeah. Ever since Blackwater, we've been moving around a lot. I don't think we've moved this often in such a short amount of time."

"Are you worried?"

Mary-Beth shrugged.

"I should be. But, we've been in binds before and Dutch always gets us out. Hosea and Arthur, too. They'll think of something."

"I'm sure. Just remind me not to drink too much. Nothin' good comes from that."

She grinned.

"I think if you're gonna drink, just do it with me. I'll keep an eye on you. And make sure no O'Driscolls get ya."

"I'm in good hands, then."

They both exchanged a smile. Mary-Beth reached out and softly patted his hand.

"I hate to say it, but I gotta go for a bit. Miss Grimshaw needs me to work and unfortunately, she doesn't consider me being here with you 'work.'"

"Oh, I'd say it's pretty… labor… labor-us…"

"Laborious," she corrected with a gentle smile.

"Right. That. I'm, uh, working on it."

"I know you are and you're doing great."

"It ain't no bother if you need to get going. Miss Grimshaw is right, though. I'm sure there's other things that need your magic."

"If it was up to me, I'd just stay here and force you to listen to me read."

"That don't sound too bad."

"Oh, trust me, Mister Duffy. It could drive even you crazy!"

"We'll have to see, miss."

With that, Mary-Beth stood up, taking his hand with her. She gave it a squeeze and let him go.

"I'll come back when I can."

"Don't worry about me. I'll be fine."

She frowned.

"I'll worry about you all I want, you hear?!"

Kieran laughed and put up his hands defensively.

"Yes, ma'am."

After a moment of hesitation, Mary-Beth leaned in and kissed him on the forehead.

"Thank you, miss," Kieran said, "Thank you for everything."

She lingered, clearly uninterested in leaving. Kieran did not realize he had placed a hand on her arm when she kissed him. He slowly moved it up, reaching her shoulder and fringes of her hair. Mary-Beth's eyes widened at his touch. She gasped softly and leaned in just enough that Kieran began to wonder if she was inviting him to do _more_ …

No.

Not now.

Kieran released her arm and settled his hands by his side. He tried to smile, even though he felt his face burning up from embarrassment. He didn't want to guess. He didn't want to ruin whatever this was with Mary-Beth, the most wonderful woman he had ever met, one of the few bright spots in his life. Kieran was never good with this sort of thing. Chalk it up to a lack of experience or his natural insecurities that no one ever tried to help him banish, but doing just about anything with a woman downright _terrified_ him. And this was no ordinary woman- this was Mary-Beth Gaskill!

So, he let her go and pretended like nothing was on his mind. Maybe in time he would do something about what he felt, be brave for a change. But not now.

His heart skipped a beat when he noticed the look on her face. He tried to convince himself it was anything other than what it was- disappointment. But, after a moment, a flicker of something that was possibly understanding crossed her face.

"Rest up, now. Okay?"

"Alrighty."

Kieran watched her leave. Mary-Beth gave him one more bright gaze and left, shutting the door behind her.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We ain't giving up on this just yet, boah.
> 
> Anyway, trying to get back into writing- first thing I'm posting for 2021. Let's hope this is a good year.
> 
> On a lighter note, I have no idea if Branwen is male or female. I'm assuming Branwen is female in this story. Does it matter? Probably not. But it matters to me.

Kieran was busy straining at the book Mary-Beth had left with him. It was an adventure story, about a traveling knight and his oafish companion. Tracing his finger across the page to keep his pace, Kieran would occasionally pause to underline a word that he did not understand or had never seen before so he may consult Mary-Beth later.

In an hour, he had read fifteen pages. He soon found himself reading the passages aloud, albeit softly, in an attempt to see if they sounded good enough to demonstrate to Mary-Beth. His focus was broken by a knock at the door.

“Uh, come in,” he said, setting down the book.

Arthur entered.

“Hello, O’Driscoll.” 

Kieran narrowed his eyes and felt a hot feeling flash across his face. How _dare_ he still call him an O’Driscoll?! After everything, after _this_. Kieran thought more than proved himself by now. He thought he did enough to stop the incessant comments.

“I ain’t no _fucking O’Driscoll_!” Kieran snapped at Arthur with an intensity he himself did not even expect to muster. 

Arthur seemed taken aback by this as well. His expression became one of genuine surprise and he put up both his hands in a placating gesture.

“Whoa now, I was just joking. I know for sure you ain’t an O’Driscoll. I did… have my doubts, but now, I don’t think I can call you that anymore.”

“R-really?” 

“Sure.” 

Kieran chuckled.

“Are you… apologizing?” 

Arthur laughing gruffly.

“Now, don’t get crazy there.” 

Kieran smiled. He figured as much. But, Arthur still finally seemed to be accepting him. That much meant something.

The older man walked over and took a seat. 

“I got to talk to you for a bit.” 

“Uh, alright.” 

Arthur withdrew a pack of cigarettes from his satchel and withdrew one for himself. He offered one to Kieran, who accepted. Striking a match, Arthur lit his own and then Kieran’s. Arthur allowed Kieran to take a drag before beginning.

“Where did the O’Driscolls take you?”

“Just outside. In the swamp.”

“When?” 

“The same night you got little Jack back home.” 

“How did that happen?” 

“Well, I believe you saw I was not particularly aware of what was happening around me.” 

“I did see, yes,” Arthur said with a chuckle, most definitely remembering Kieran’s inebriated state after Jack’s rescue. It had been the first time Kieran had allowed himself to get drunk in over two years.

“I wandered out into the swamp, I don’t even know what I was thinking. They were waiting for me there.”

“Hmm,” Arthur thoughtfully grunted with a nod. 

“So, they were waiting for you? They knew you were here?” 

“They must’ve. Colm doesn’t like to head anywhere near Saint Denis. He always said there was too much law in the area.” 

“Well that answers my next question,” Arthur said plainly.

“Which was what?” 

“Did you give us up?”

Kieran scoffed and shook his head.

“No! No, of course not. They- they knew y’all was out here already, so they couldn’t beat that out of me. No, they wanted to know how many guns Dutch had posted and where. Who was still alive and who wasn’t.” 

Arthur blinked and let Kieran take another drag of his cigarette. 

“Why didn’t you give us up?” he asked calmly.

Kieran was confused. 

“Why not?” he asked.

“Yeah. Why not?” Arthur reiterated. 

“Because… because y’all are good people. It’d be wrong to do that.” 

_And because the last thing I’d want is for anything bad to happen to Mary-Beth._

But, he wouldn’t share that. Especially not in front of Arthur. Kieran had observed their relationship over the past few months and felt that he understood it as well as he could. At first, he was afraid Arthur would pose some stiff competition for Mary-Beth’s affections. But, Kieran realized that, like the other younger girls in the camp, Arthur regarded her as a little sister- someone he would go to great lengths to protect. And as her non-biological big brother, Arthur would definitely want the best for Mary-Beth. Kieran was fairly certain the man did not regard him as “the best.” 

“Do you really believe that?” Arthur asked, “you really think we’re good people?” 

Kieran sighed and smiled sheepishly.

“Well, maybe ‘good’ ain’t the best word but… compared to the O’Driscolls or the Raiders, y’all are a bunch of saints.” 

Arthur gave a low laugh in reply.

“Yeah, that sounds about right.” 

With a nod, Arthur stood up. 

“My questions have been answered. You be good now,” he bid Kieran before turning to leave.

Arthur paused at the doorway and turned around.

“And Kieran?” 

Kieran looked up.

“Uh, yeah?” 

“I’m glad you’re still with us.” 

The two men shared a brief glance of unspoken understanding.

“Thank you,” Kieran said sincerely. It’s all that needed to be said.

Arthur gave a quick nod in reply and exited. With a chuckle, Kieran’s head flopped back down on the pillow. He had spent a long time terrified of whether or not he would die. Now, with even Arthur begrudgingly admitting he almost, sort of cared about Kieran, things were _really_ starting to look up.

* * *

_Before_

She felt her cheeks burning in the cold. As she walked, Mary-Beth pulled her shawl in a bit closer to keep the biting wind off her face. She didn’t much like this place they were hiding out in. Colter, it was called. One of the many ghost towns that dotted the Grizzlies. Sure, they’d be safe from the law. But, in exchange for that brief respite, they’d have to worry about frostbite, hypothermia, starving to death, and being eaten by bears. 

Now, it seemed they had something else to watch out for- Colm O’Driscoll and his gang. They were like a bad rash- couldn’t ever truly get rid of them. 

For the past few days, Mary-Beth did not willingly leave the glow of the fireplace for any reason other than short forays outside to do chores. She had willingly departed her spot by the fire because an interesting turn of events had occurred the previous day. Arthur had managed to take an O’Driscoll alive. 

She almost felt bad for the man they had captured. She was certain he would be subjected to a battery of abuses by Arthur, Dutch, Bill, and whoever else felt the need to take out their frustrations on something. 

Mary-Beth had heard they locked him in one of the abandoned barns. Dutch was talking about leaving him there for a while, letting him go hungry in order to make him more cooperative. 

Despite the fact the man was one of their sworn enemies, Mary-Beth felt a twang of hurt when she heard that. It didn’t seem right to do that to anyone, even an O’Driscoll. 

Was she a bit… soft? Definitely. Especially when compared to the company she kept. They’d often tease her for her nature, but Mary-Beth held true. It was a part of who she was, a part of her being. She felt every person deserves dignity, even if they were an O’Driscoll.

So, while most of the men were stuck in a meeting with Dutch and the women were too busy with their chores to notice her, Mary-Beth slipped away with some things under her coat. She quickly headed over to the barn, trudging through the deep snow. 

She wanted to check on the prisoner. Why exactly- she was not entirely sure. Something about what Dutch had ordered be done to the man simply did not sit right with her. She would be admonished by the gang should she be discovered, which is why she moved with a purpose and chose this exact time to slip away.

The door to the old barn was unguarded. Maybe they felt the O’Driscoll was too scared to try to escape or perhaps Dutch felt that they could not spare a man to just stand around when other things needed to be done. Either way, Mary-Beth checked to see if anyone was watching before opening the rickety door.

With a loud creak that made Mary-Beth cringe, she shut the door as a dusting of snow fell upon her head. She looked up and a few feet away was the O’Driscoll. He was slumped over, his hands bound behind his back to a central support beam. Despite her noisy entrance, the man had not looked up. She could only imagine what was racing through his mind, not to mention the physical toll of being locked in a cold barn with no food or water would have taken.

When she took a step that crunched on a thin layer of snow near the barn entrance, the O’Driscoll shot up to full height with a shuddering breath, as if she had roused him from whatever reverie he had taken. His eyes were wide with terror for a moment, but he seemed to relax slightly when he saw it wasn’t one of the men. 

Mary-Beth paused when she looked at him. The man was… not what she was expecting at all. 

He was tall and lanky, with a thin beard and dark hair that came down to the nape of his neck. The O’Driscoll regarded her with wide green eyes that blinked only once in the time she stared at him.

Mary-Beth was taken aback. This… boy did not look like any O’Driscoll she had ever encountered, not that she met that many, but she felt she had met enough to get a good idea of what to expect from one of Colm’s henchmen. 

She was expecting a mean, grizzled outlaw. Someone like Arthur, but a whole lot meaner. This O’Driscoll was around her age, maybe a bit older, and looked positively terrified of Mary-Beth. She almost chuckled at the thought. 

Mary-Beth took another forward and undid her shawl, snow fluttering around her as she did so. The O'Driscoll's eyes widened a bit when she revealed herself and she could feel him examining her. 

There was a short pang of silence in the barn. 

“Hello?” Mary-Beth tried. 

The man before her did not reply, but whimpered a bit instead.

Mary-Beth felt a flash of anger briefly enter her system. She suddenly felt very angry at Dutch for allowing such cruelty toward a prisoner, especially after his endless hours of moral pontificating about how the gang was “better” than the other bands of criminals roaming the West, how they would never stoop to the level of gangs like the O’Driscoll Boys or Del Lobos.

“It’s- it’s okay,” Mary-Beth offered, holding up a placating hand and using the softest voice she could muster, “I’m not going to hurt you.” 

Finally, he spoke.

“Are… are you serious?” 

She smiled, almost chuckling.

“Yes, really. My name’s Mary-Beth. What’s your name?” 

Green eyes met blue. He seemed to be reassured for the first time in a long while.

“My name is Kieran. Uh, Kieran Duffy.” 

She smiled at him and nodded.

“Well, uh, Mister Kieran Duffy. I’d say it’s nice to meet you, but I don’t think these are the best circumstances for a meeting.” 

He laughed raspily.

“No, ma’am, I would have to agree with you there.” 

Wasting no time, Mary-Beth withdrew the canteen she had concealed under her coat.

“Would you like some water?” 

Kieran perked up at the offer.

“Oh! Yes, yes… uh, yes please. I ain’t had much to drink today.” 

She approached him and then paused in her step. Mary-Beth had been running with criminals and thieves long enough. She knew that an opportunistic type could act scared and passive to lull their captors into a false sense of security before striking. She briefly imagined Kieran leaping up as she brought the canteen to his lips, grabbing her by the neck and plunging a sharpened piece of wood into her jugular. 

“Miss?” Kieran spoke in a tone bordering on begging, “please… I’m real thirsty.” 

Mary-Beth sighed softly. His bonds looked quite secure. She met his eyes once more and the look she saw was one that held no deception, only quiet pleading. 

She came within a foot of him and held the canteen up to his lips. Kieran drank in great greedy gulps, losing a fair amount of water down his chin. 

Mary-Beth drew back slightly.

“Okay, okay, slowly now! I don’t want you to throw it all up.” 

Kieran nodded.

“Sorry, miss. I just… don’t know when I’ll get more.”

“It’s okay. I have plenty here. Just- take your time, okay?” 

“Okay, miss.” 

Mary-Beth bought the canteen back up to Kieran’s mouth and he complied with her request to drink slower. Once he drank his fill, he sighed in relief.

“Thank you, miss. Thank you. That… that’ll keep me going for a while.” 

She stowed the canteen and reached into her jacket once more. Her next move caused Kieran to nearly jump out of the rope holding him in place.

Mary-Beth presented him a few sticks of beef jerky. 

“Are you hungry?” she inquired. 

Mary-Beth could see Kieran was practically salivating. Her question was a rhetorical one, evidently. 

“I’m starving!” 

She held out some jerky for him and he caught it with his teeth, gulping down the entire snack in two bites. 

“Thank you, miss. Thank you very much,” Kieran said breathlessly after he ate a second bit of jerky. 

Kieran consumed all six pieces of jerky Mary-Beth had bought for him and took a little more water. After his meal, Kieran smiled at her. Mary-Beth thought he looked better already. 

“Thank you, thank you,” he repeated. It was all he could say for the past few minutes. 

He looked past her shoulder and to the door of the barn, as if he was expecting it to swing open at any moment.

“Would you get in trouble if someone saw you doing this?” he asked.

Mary-Beth smiled.

“Yes, I probably would. But, I know Arthur would stand up for me.” 

“Well, you should be moving on either way. I don’t want no one getting in trouble because of me.” 

Mary-Beth looked him over one more time. She reached out her hands toward his neck and Kieran recoiled almost reflexively. She paused and nodded once, her heart hurting a bit more for the O’Driscoll boy.

Mary-Beth quickly adjusted the collar of his jacket, flipping it up to give him just a bit more insulation. 

“I will have to get going. Someone might come looking for me. But, I’ll come back when I can. And maybe have a little chat with some of the men about how we’re treating you.” 

Kieran frowned and vigorously shook his head.

“No! No, miss, please don’t go doing that. I don’t wanna ‘cause trouble. Especially for someone who was just so kind to me.” 

Mary-Beth frowned in reply. 

“Either way, I’ll be making sure you get what you need one way or another.” 

“Thank you,” Kieran said for the millionth time. 

Mary-Beth reapplied her shawl and looked up to meet his eyes.

“I’ll be seeing you, Mister Duffy. And… I promise you, we ain’t bad people. I know that seems somewhat hard to believe given the circumstances, but, you’ll see.” 

Kieran gave a small smile and nodded. 

“Well, I ain’t sure about all that. But I know some of you ain’t bad people.”

* * *

Kieran was never someone who liked to sit around for very long. So, a mere three days after his misadventure with the O’Driscolls, he was back to work. Not that he considered caring for horses work. 

Either way, Kieran was out in the designated corral just outside the main grounds of Shady Belle, where he was brushing Branwen. All the other horses had been fed and provided water, so he was taking some time to take care of his loyal steed. 

Once he was satisfied, Kieran stowed Branwen’s brush and doffed his hat. He stretched before wiping sweat from his brow. He had to admit, the stifling Lemoyne heat was not his favorite of the climates he had experienced in recent months. 

He took a sip of water from his canteen while absentmindedly stroking Branwen. Some distance away, he spotted Mary-Beth with a few books tucked under her arm. She turned to look in his direction and their eyes met. She grinned and waved and Kieran waved back, aware that he most likely had a very stupid looking grin plastered on his face. 

Mary-Beth disappeared around a corner and Kieran turned his attention back to his horse. 

“So, what do you think of Mary-Beth, Branwen?” 

Branwen eyeballed him and exhaled sharply. 

Kieran nodded in agreement.

“Yeah, she’s real great. You let her feed you and I know you can be picky with who gets you dinner.” 

Kieran held out a carrot, which Branwen readily accepted. 

He patted her on the side and nodded. 

“I’m talking to my damn horse,” he mused.

Branwen replied by turning her head and gently nudging him, apparently confused why she was no longer receiving pats. 

Kieran chuckled and resumed his motions.

“Well, you are a great listener, I’ll give ya that.” 

A few feet away, Kieran heard a pair of boots crunching on the dry grass and making their way to the corral. Out of the corner of his eye, Kieran registered the portly form of Uncle. 

Kieran resumed tending to Branwen and did not exchange pleasantries with the man. They were not to that level yet. 

Uncle had arrived at his horse and retrieved a bottle of whisky from his saddlebags, probably intent on pouring himself some lunch. It took a minute, but Kieran realized Uncle had not moved from his spot after getting his bottle and was staring at him.

Kieran stopped short and turned to face him. The older man had a jovial grin on his face.

“Uh, hello?” Kieran said warily. 

“So, Kieran,” Uncle began, “Mary-Beth, huh?” 

Kieran felt his face blanch. 

“Uh, what? What about her?” he hurriedly said. 

Uncle’s smile widened. 

“Don’t be playing coy with me, boy. You may think I’m an old coot, but I see things- notice things. Y’all spend an awful lot of time together. I see you looking at her any chance you get, and she does the same. Seems like it’s working out, whatever it is!” 

Kieran’s eyes darted left and right as he looked for a way to beat a hasty retreat from this uncomfortable topic. 

“It- it ain’t nothing! We’re just… uh, friends.” 

“Friends? Is that so?” Uncle asked.

“Uh…” 

Uncle chuckled and his smile widened. 

“Oh, no need to be all bashful about it- we’re all friends here.” 

“I-” 

“Now, look, Kieran, I’ll give you a little piece of advice- free of charge. This sort of deal don’t come around too often, so listen carefully.”

Kieran blinked but remained quiet. 

“Now… it ain’t too hard to see you like that girl. And you know something, boy? She _likes you too_. So, I really think you just need to go up to her and say what you need to say. Your little, er, close encounter with the afterlife should have given you a bit of perspective on things.” 

Kieran shook his head slowly.

“I’m not sure I can just… go up… and…” he trailed off.

Uncle sighed and took a swig of alcohol before continuing. 

“Kieran, you strike me as a man who isn’t used to making an effort to get what he wants.”

“What’s that supposed to mean-?” 

“I want you to go out and get what you want, or try to at least. These sorts of things won’t just fall into your lap if you don’t try, you know! I’m sure we all wish a pretty girl like Mary-Beth would just throw herself at us, but the world don’t work like that. If you have something you want, something you need in your life, then you gotta be a man and go and get it.” 

Uncle’s expression darkened and his tone became much more serious, more than Kieran had ever heard it become.

“I can tell you this, because I’ve been doing this longer than you have, that you’ll wake up one day and realize that what you should have made time for, what you should have gone out and done, who you should have told how you really felt, won’t be there and won’t ever be coming back.”

The silence between the two men hung in the air for a long moment. Kieran could not believe Uncle of all people was capable of such genuine wisdom. 

The grave expression on Uncle’s face disappeared and was replaced by his usual bemused grin.

“You should just count yourself lucky I ain’t your age right now, boy,” Uncle began as he walked off, tossing his bottle into the air and catching it, “otherwise, Mary-Beth would already be spoken for!” 

Uncle whistled a jaunty tune as he left Kieran to his thoughts. Kieran sighed and draped his arms over Branwen, leaning forward as he crossed his legs. Mary-Beth was sitting at one of the round tables, a book held in one hand and her head leaning on the other one. Kieran thought she positively glowed in the noon light. 

He sighed and gave Branwen a soft pat.

“You know what the worst part about all this is, girl?” he asked his horse.

Branwen stood still, patiently waiting for his conclusion. 

“Uncle is completely right.” 

Branwen nickered in reply.


End file.
